


Ode to a Troublesome Squire

by seori



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Forum: Goldenlake, Gen, Lord Theodore, Malorie's Peak Prompt, Series: The Song of the Lioness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 21:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17067656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seori/pseuds/seori
Summary: Douglass doesn't mean to cause trouble, not really. It's just that trouble usually finds him. Written for various Fief Goldenlake prompts and events.





	1. Courting Favour

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fief Goldenlake's Wishing Tree event, for westernsunset. Prompt: Page life, either with Alanna's cohort or Kel's, any sort of school-time story.

The pages are lamenting being left out of the trip to Fief Meron when it dawns on Douglass that everybody else seems to have a much clearer idea about who will take them on as squire.

"I'm going, of course," Geoffrey says with a languid air, "I think Alex wants to try me out, you know."

"You're going because it's your father's fief," Douglass points out sourly. "But feel free to give Alex prior knowledge of your inadequacies. I've no doubt they'd all love to have another pack-horse along."

Sacherell grins, not so quick to rile as Douglass. He's still the best swordsman in their year (though Alan seems to be creeping up on him), and it's given him a sense of security. Personally, Douglass thinks the future knights would rather have a project, somebody who appears to be in need of the knowledge they can impart.

He hopes that's the case, anyway.

"I've heard Jon's asking Duke Gareth if he can bring Alan out to Meron."

Douglass pulls a face, though he never really had designs on being the royal squire. There would be too much attention on him, for one thing. Fewer chances to sneak off for an afternoon. "Maybe he's hoping to leave him out there."

"I'd only suspect that was Jon's plan if I heard he was taking _you_ ," Sacherell replies with a smirk, and Douglass thinks this is a great opportunity to practise his wrestling skills.

\--

It's time, Douglass concludes, for drastic action.

He encounters Jon first, which isn't ideal given that Alan appears to have designs on the prince, but at least he can definitively rule out one prospect. 

"Say, Jon - might I comment that you are looking magnificent? Very regal."

Jon, who is currently mucking out the stables, tosses a shovelful Douglass's way. "Ha ha, Douglass. Are you in trouble? I'm not going to Uncle again - I have it on very good authority that you _were_ in the kitchens when the platters went missing."

Douglass coughs. This is inconvenient. "Of course I'm not in trouble. I in fact came to see if there was anything you needed from me."

Jon cocks his head to the side, and holds his shovel out with a grin.

"Anything that wouldn't turn my stomach," Douglass adds.

"Suit yourself." Jon returns to shovelling, and Douglass wonders if he should compliment him on his technique, or if that's something that isn't appreciated when the heir is knee-deep in muck.

"Have you given any thought to your squire?" asks Douglass, doing his best to sound nonchalant.

From the look on Jon's face, Douglass doesn't succeed. "Alan, if he'll have me."

Figures. Douglass reasons it couldn't hurt to ingratiate himself a little in case Alan does refuse Jon (much as Douglass likes him, Alan is a peculiar boy at the best of times, and he also doesn't appear to wash, so maybe Jon won't appreciate being in close quarters with him on this trip to Meron). "Who would think of refusing you?" Then, because he likes not being the only one in trouble, he asks, "By the way, what did you do?"

"Made Gary bet his allowance down the Dancing Dove," Jon says, pulling a face. "Uncle Gareth doesn't like gambling, apparently."

\--

Gary is next up, but Douglass think it's rather unlikely that Gary will take him on, mostly because Gary says, "Douglass, I would rather have no squire than you as my squire", though really, there's several ways to take that. It might be that Gary thinks he's unworthy of a squire such as Douglass. At least he tells Gary that Jon is looking at Alan, because honesty is the best policy, and it definitely isn't because Gary has loudly declared that he'll happily duel anyone to get Alan.

He tries Alex next, mostly so he can see if Geoffrey was correct in his assumptions, but when he lightly enquires what Alex is looking for in a squire, he decides that Geoffrey is better off with Alex anyway.

And that leaves Raoul. Well, really, he has the whole of Tortall's unsquired knights to pick from, and he's sure that he could persuade a few of those with squires to ditch them. On the other hand, if his yearmates are picking from this batch of knights, he doesn't want to be left out. He's already started breaking this lot in, to boot. It's unthinkable to have to start over with somebody who isn't used to him.

So. Raoul it is. 

"Raoul. You are the most noble of almost knights, a bastion of honesty in this hollow world. If chivalry had a face, it would be yours."

Raoul grins, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I was wondering when you'd finally work your way round to me."

It is Douglass's misfortune to be surrounded by boys who tattle like washerwomen. "Those who have gone before you were merely inferior. I was ashamed to prostrate my lowly self at your most gracious feet."

"That's a nice way of saying I'm the only one left."

Douglass shrugs. "I would anticipate your every desire before you were aware of it. I would keep you full of wine and bread, your feet warm, and your boots clean."

Raoul's eyebrows raise as he unwraps the cloth from his fists. "Douglass, I'm looking for a squire, not a wife."

"I'll make sure you spend as little time at social events as possible."

"Done."

Douglass blinks, surprised. "What?"

"I was thinking about asking you anyway." Raoul claps Douglass on the back. "Jon called dibs on Alan. Don't let me regret it."

"Never," Douglass vows, "I'll handle all your balls, I promise." 

(It isn't quite two years before he reneges on this, and arranges Raoul to be present at every social event he can think of, from Midwinter festivities to poetry recitals. Raoul is grateful when Gary suggests swapping squires, and it is some twenty years before he considers taking another one)


	2. Friendly Advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Douglass has some romantic advice to offer Raoul (Douglass is not one to talk). Written for Fief Goldenlake's Love Letters event.

My Dear Raoul,

Lesson #1: Squires are not Love's fair messengers, set on this realm to wing your declarations of love to your sweet lady.

Lesson #2: Other people's squires are not here to do your dirty work. I say this with the authority of my own knight-master, to whom I am entirely devoted. Sorry; I realise this might hurt given our history. You do, however, have your own squire, though I accept he comes a distant second to my excellent self.

Since the primary matters have been dealt with, let me move on to the more pressing issue of your aborted correspondence with darling Lady Delia.

Ladies are rather touchy when you accuse them of theft, so however poetic you might be trying to be, I would not make reference to her eyes looking like stolen emeralds. Instead, let her think you are the outdoors type, by likening them to the grass you have just lain on, or the bushes through which you have just rummaged. Ladies love a man to be active.

As much as they love an active man, they despise biological inaccuracy. You should therefore reconsider the line "my heart beats for you alone". Show a thorough knowledge of the workings of the human body by writing "although I am fully aware that my heart beats for the purpose of pumping blood around my body, it feels as though it beats for you alone". A line like that is sure to impress a woman like Lady Delia.

I hate to be the one to break it to you, but wrestling is not an attractive sport, and thus, offering to beat any man in a wrestling match for her fair hand is not likely to excite the lady. It also comes across as boastful. Should you make occasional, off-hand references to running things through with your sword, the lady will be far more impressed.

I confess that the swan metaphor leaves me cold. Lady Delia does not spend any time in the lake, and so I am not sure she knows what a swan is. I consider that she would appreciate being likened to a goose far more - they are, after all, the swans of the land.

Please take my advice in the spirit it was given. Should you pass any more letters my way, I will take it as implicit instruction to edit them in accordance with my above ideas prior to delivery.

Ever yours (though obviously I'm actually Gary's now),  
Douglass.


	3. Sleeping Bears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Fief Goldenlake's Malorie's Peak Prompt #121: Bear Hunt

Alanna isn't the kind of person who appreciates being woken up, particularly when she has planned to sleep in.

"Go away," she growls, pulling her pillow over her head. The sun isn't up, so she sees no reason why she should be.

Jonathan sweeps the pillow away from her; she sits up in bed with a snarl. "Oh my. We were planning on going on a bear hunt, but I think I found a grizzly already. The search is over."

His voice is low and his eyes bright, and she feels her heart thump painfully in response, particularly when he seats himself on her bed. It is too much, having him so close, and much too much as he sweeps a hand through her sleep-ruffled hair.

Then he snatches her sheet.

"Time to get up," Jonathan crows, jumping to his feet with his trophies in hand.

Alanna is going to fill his bed with a million frogs. She is going to collect the slimiest slugs and slip them all into his boots. She will air his tunics in the stables, above the horse dung.

But first, she is going to get up, because there is still something irresistible about the smile he shoots her.

\--

The bear hunt is Gary's idea. Apparently, it is recompense for Douglass 'accidentally' unpicking the stitching on Gary's tunic, so that the sleeves dropped off in front of Lady Delia. Douglass's claims that Gary had simply been doing too much exercising fell on deaf ears, and this is the result.

Unpicking stitches. It isn't a bad idea, Alanna muses. She has no teddy bear on which Jonathan could wreak his revenge.

She is the one chosen to slip into Douglass's room, 'to hone her stealth skills' or because the knights are too clumsy to ever manage it on their own. Her Gift highlights her year-mate's slack, sleeping face, and the teddy bear half-hidden beneath his weight.

Guilt momentarily stills her, but Douglass keeps jibing at her lack of beard lately, so she keeps going.

Gingerly, using tricks she has picked up from George, she slips the bear out from under him, taking care to replace its bulk with a balled-up tunic from the floor.

Lord Theodore's glassy eyes stare at her accusingly, and she has to turn him to face the real culprits as she closes Douglass's door behind her.

"What are you going to do with him?" she asks quietly, figuring this probably should have been her first question.

"Give him to Lady Roxanne as a token of Douglass's undying affection," Gary answers with a grin. "Thanks, Alan. You, er, passed the stealth test. Very impressive." He ruffles her hair, and disappears into his own room, tucking the bear under his arm. This is his second mistake, but he will find that out soon enough. Alanna shouldn't need to tell him that he should follow through now, or he will be punished without having the satisfaction of following through on the prank.

Jonathan's eyes light on hers, amused. "Yes, Squire Alan," he says, purposefully nudging her as they head back to their adjoining rooms. "Say, er, since we're already awake-"

"Practice room in ten minutes?" Alanna asks brightly.


	4. Gloves Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly written for Malorie's Peak Prompt #95: Obsession.

"Fighting with Raoul in public?" Duke Gareth enquires.

Gary swallows tightly. He considers himself to be an adult now, able to lord his status over his lowly squire, but his father still makes him feel about five. He glances across at Douglass, whom Gary remembers also being involved, but the other boy's face is serene and perhaps even amused.

"Sorry, your Grace," he murmurs dutifully.

Duke Gareth raises an eyebrow. "This is unacceptable behaviour, Gareth. I'd expect this from the pages, and maybe the squires, but not from a knight of the realm. Douglass's stuffed bear has more common sense."

"Maybe you should consider making Lord Theodore your heir instead," Douglass puts in, smirking. "I think he'd do a better job of it, if I'm honest."

Gary narrows his eyes at Douglass, as Duke Gareth leans back in his chair. "Right now, Douglass, that isn't as ridiculous an idea as you might think it. Go, both of you. Pack your bags. I'm sending you and Goldenlake on border patrol."

\--

"I hope you're happy."

" _Happy_?" Gary snarls back. "What in the name of Mithros would make you think that I was happy about this situation?"

Douglass stretches his arms out, apparently entirely unconcerned by Gary's outburst. "Well, you kept Lady Delia's glove, didn't you? Did you check if it fit yet?"

They are not both going to survive this trip to the border. Gary can feel veins pulsing in his neck. His horse shifts nervously under him, responding to his tension. With a great effort, he tries to control his breathing like the Mithran master has taught him. "I don't want to _wear_ Lady Delia's glove, Douglass."

"Seems like you might have let Raoul have it, in that case," Douglass returns, looking almost lazy upon his own horse. If Gary hadn't seen Douglass in action, he'd never guess that the boy is a trained fighter. "I don't want to criticise you, of course, sir-" Gary snorts "-but Raoul did seem to want it an awful lot, and I think the colour would have suited his complexion terribly well."

Ridiculous. Douglass is absolutely ridiculous, and-

"All right, I'm sorry," Gary says with a sigh, knowing it was what Douglass is aiming for. "I'm sorry I've turned you out of your nice warm bed, and that we've got to cool our heels at the border."

"And you're sorry for making me wait on Lady Delia," Douglass adds with an impish smile. "I don't know why you're taking tasks away from Alan when clearly he enjoys the pleasure of fawning over her."

That does make Gary chuckle. "You squires will all understand the lure of a pretty lady one day," he warned, rubbing his head.

There is a pause, and then Douglass says, "I'd probably pick one who didn't already have her eyes set on my cousin."

The truth stings a little, but Gary shakes it off. "You can't choose who you fall in love with," he says, injecting the worldly tone he'd picked up from his time at the Dancing Dove. He'd found this impressive, but it is too much to expect Douglass to be swayed.

"Maybe not, but you can choose not to have a fight over a poorly sewn glove that doesn't even fit you. I'd opt for one of your father's gloves next time. Those are always well made, and you might grow into them one day."

Time with Douglass has taught Gary not to attempt to have the last word. It usually doesn't end well.


	5. Secret Admirers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Fief Goldenlake's Malorie's Peak Prompt #49: Letters

Most Noble and Chivalrous Sir Gary,

I hope you do not consider it too forward for me to write to you. I simply find it hard to contain my adoration for your strong person. My heart beats faster and faster each time I hear heavy footsteps down a corridor, lest they belong to you. It has reached the point where everything reminds me of you, and I dream of parchment and desks and laws which need minute adjustments.

I scarce have control over my heart any long. I fear that it is now, entirely, yours.

Your Secret Admirer

\--

Oh Exceedingly Noble and Handsome Sir Gary,

I did not mean for you to try to uncover me. My sweet and tender nature makes me think I am not worthy for you to even look upon me (although you do, from time to time, and I savour these precious moments like water in the desert). 

I have found that you are to go on border patrol shortly with the much less noble Sir Raoul, and your squires. My heart hopes you will not be gone long - and that, once returned to me, you will not desire to steal gloves or venture out of Corus again.

Your Secret Admirer

\--

Sweet Noble and Very Near Once More Sir Gary,

It pains me to note that you paid no attention to my last missive (save for remaining in the capital, for which you have my deepest thanks). I wish to admire you from _afar_ , dearest knight, you and that marvellous moustache which is much more impressive from a distance.

Perhaps I might admire you once from a little closer, though, if you were to attend the Midwinter ball tomorrow evening, instead of pouring over those accounts as I have heard you intend...

Still Your Secret Admirer (despite your best efforts)

\--

Achingly Noble and Delightfully Hairy Sir Gary,

Since you seem intent on discovering my true identity, perhaps you might wait for me outside the Queen's private garden tomorrow evening.

I will be waiting... all evening, if I must. I'll be wearing a blue dress.

Your Almost Exposed Admirer

\--

Gary,

I'm sorry, all right? I didn't think you'd believe the letters in the first place, and I really didn't think anybody would be walking by themselves in a blue dress last night. I'm sorry you embarrassed yourself.

I'll write Lady Cythera a letter too. You can see I'm getting quite good at them.

Your Admirable Correspondent,  
Douglass.

\--

My dearest Gwynnen, brightest flower in the court,

Your arrangements last night were as delightful as I expected, though Lord Theodore says my knight-master is like a bear with a sore head today - and he should know.

Douglass.


	6. Romantic Woes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for 31_days prompt: Perhaps it's because it's not sad enough.

"How do you tell the love of your life that you can't live without her?" Gary complains.

"Just like that, I imagine," Douglass answers absently, sitting cross-legged on Gary's bed, Lord Theodore in his lap. He suspects that the teddy bear is reading the book faster than he is, but only because Douglass keeps getting distracted by Gary.

Gary lets out an exasperated sigh. "That's not poetic enough," he replies, dragging his hands through his hair so it stands up on end. "Don't you ever speak to girls? That's the sort of thing they like. Poetry, and flowery things."

"Say what you mean," Douglass tries, turning the page - more for Lord Theodore's benefit than his own. He's managed to read only a quarter of the book despite being more than halfway through.

"Didn't you hear what I just said?"

It appears Douglass isn't going to be able to make any further progress with his knight-master in this sort of mood, so he snaps the book shut. "Yes, I heard you. You're awful at poetry, though, Gary. Really awful. If you want her to say no, then I suggest you continue on with it. If she's not offended by your painful rhymes, the fact that you squeeze ten syllables on one line and four on the next will see her running for the door."

For a moment, Gary looks like he is going to protest this, but then his eyes light with inspiration. "You can write a poem for me, then."

"Excellent," Douglass says, setting Lord Theodore aside. "Are you sure she'll appreciate an ode to me, though? I know she likes me, but that might be a step too far." He softens as Gary rolls his eyes and turns back to his pitiful verse. Of course, it has just occurred to Douglass what Gary will be like if Cythera refuses him, and the thought isn't pleasant. "Look, you're good at speeches. I'm sure girls like speeches. Write it out, show it to me, and then you'll be prepared. As prepared as any man facing certain death can be, of course."

"That may not be a bad idea," Gary muses, drumming his fingers on his desk. "I could write a romantic speech."

"Wonderful," Douglass says encouragingly, though he is beginning to feel faintly ill at the prospect. Poor Cythera - Douglass actually quite likes her. "That's the spirit. Get writing!"

Half-an-hour passes by, in which time Douglass has begun to reread his book from the beginning. Lord Theodore makes no complaints, but he's a good sort of bear that way. He doesn't hear a single thing from Gary, until, "It doesn't feel right somehow. I can't picture her saying yes to this."

Douglass bites back the urge to ask if he can picture her asleep with boredom at this point, and instead suggests, "Maybe it would be better if you made it sad. Girls like crying."

Gary frowns at him. "I don't want her to cry."

Douglass shrugs at him. The girls he sees cry all the time. "You asked for my help. I don't know much about girls. I'd be much more helpful if you were going to propose to Sacherell or Geoffrey. Maybe Alan, but I don't think you should propose to him. He'd probably challenge you to a sword-fight or something, and you're a bit rusty there."

"Out, Douglass. Take your teddy bear with you."


End file.
